


The One Where Bones Meets Captain America

by Katefkndoes



Category: Bones (TV), Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Crossover, Gen, idontevenknow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-08
Updated: 2013-08-08
Packaged: 2017-12-22 20:59:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/917963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katefkndoes/pseuds/Katefkndoes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Does exactly what it says on the tin.  How Bones and co met Captain America.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The One Where Bones Meets Captain America

**Author's Note:**

> Found this on my HDD. It was written before The Avengers and before season 7 of Bones. I have rewritten bits of it to fit in better with canon but there are some bits that put it after the events of the Avengers
> 
> Also, this is unbeta'd and I'm fairly sure a lot of it is OOC but I just needed to get it out of my system. So I apologise in advance.
> 
> Feedback is always welcomed.

****

The call arrived at 3.51am, which was a full two hours before he had intended to get up, but was by no means an especially odd occurrence.  However, just because Seeley was used to being pulled from his bed in the early hours, didn’t mean he was any less aggrieved by it.  Nevertheless, Booth was a professional and besides a slight groan as he leant over to the bedside table to silence his ringing phone, he made no argument about the situation. 

Perhaps it was because he was still half asleep when he took the call, or perhaps he was just getting slow in his old age, but it only occurred to him after he’d done showering that there was hardly anything pressing about a body which had been pulled out of some ice shelf.  In fact, when he actually realized that it was hardly a life or death situation, he allowed himself to be slightly perturbed at being pulled from his bed.

His budding annoyance was only added to when he arrived at the Jeffersonian to find the entire lab had been shut down.  It wasn’t the first time the lab had been commandeered or put on lock down, but since those times had included the not!JFK incident and the time when they had all been confined to the lab because of a possible poisoning, the situation hardly filled him with confidence.  Booth approached the door with caution, his gun a comforting weight in his hands, moving with the quiet confidence of a trained marksman.

Naturally, Seeley had assumed he would face some opposition when accessing the lab – despite the fact _someone_ had requested his presence.  However, the man on the door merely opened the door with a welcoming, yet professional smile, and stepped aside willingly.  If the guard was at all fazed by the gun in his hands, he didn’t show it. 

“You must be Agent Booth, we’ve been expecting you,” the guard smiled again.  Even though he was a dressed in an inconspicuous suit, the guard carried himself like a soldier.  _More likely Special Forces,_ Booth thought.  The fact that the guard made no attempt to reach for his own gun – which, was holstered at the other man’s hip – was only a further indication that his initial assumption was accurate.

“Although, we weren’t expecting the pleasure of being faced with your fire-arm,” a tall, dark-skinned man with an eye patch that covered a nasty looking scar across his left eye and a distinctive long black coat appeared out of nowhere.  Booth kept both hands on his gun, but lowered it towards the ground – not yet comfortable enough to relinquish his grip on the gun.  “I’m Nick Fury, Commander of SHIELD- ”

“I thought SHIELD was an urban myth-” Booth was silenced with a serious case of dead eye from the Commander and he promptly shut his mouth.  Pleased with the result of his look, Fury nodded.

“It really is good to meet you Agent Booth,” he held out his hand, reluctantly Booth yielded to Fury’s request, re-holstered his gun and shook the Commander’s hand.

“Do you mind telling me what was so important that you needed to pull my guys in over the weekend?”  The Jeffersonian was deserted save for Brennan’s laboratory – the lab was as bright as usual, a stark contrast to the rest of the building - and the corridors had taken on an eerie tone due to the consuming silence.  But that wasn’t important; he needed to focus on the job in hand – protecting Bones – and angering Fury probably wasn’t the best way of going about that.  He was half-considering an apology, but Fury merely smiled in an ambiguous manner, and paused briefly, no doubt considering the best response.

“We found a body in the Artic and we need confirmation of identity.  We’ve been reliably informed that Brennan’s team is the best.”  His face dissolved back into an expressionless mask, but his tone was complimentary.

“They’re the best I’ve worked with, sir.”  Booth spoke with a deference he sensed that Fury demanded of all he allowed to work in close proximity to him.  Which was partially, because the situation couldn’t be as simple as body identification, but mainly, because he wanted to be assured of his continued inclusion in whatever _was_ going on.  “But they prefer to do so of their own free will and not be kidnapped and forced to examine remains in the middle of the night.”  Deference was one thing, but Booth was pretty sure a man like Nick Fury would have done his research, and would suspect his intentions if he didn’t make his irritation clear.

“I’d hardly call it kidnap…” the guard – agent – started, but Booth had no cause to be polite to him and cut him off with an accusation.

“Did you, or did you not force their attendance?”  He clenched his jaw and eyed the guard with exacting eyes. 

“We offered generous compensation for their time and cooperation,” Fury replied for his agent, his tone carefully guarded rather than annoyed.

 “You bought them in under duress,” Booth countered, regaining his composure, and maintaining a degree of respect to his tone.

“If that were the case, Agent Booth, do you honestly believe we would have contacted you?”  Fury replied with the kind of sarcastic respect Seeley could appreciate.  Booth considered that for a moment, before he conceded the point.  He was more than aware how illogical it would be to call him in if Bones or any of her team were in danger.

“So,” he changed the subject, “you suspect a murder?”  His assumption was based on the fact that they _had_ called him in, but Fury pursed his lips as if to disagree.

“Not exactly,” Fury answered honestly, after a pause.  “It’s somewhat complicated; if you’ll follow me, hopefully things will become a little easier to understand.”  The agent made an attempt to follow them but the commander waved him off.  “Keep your post, Barton.”  The man nodded in silence and stepped back to the door as instructed as Booth was lead into the depths of the lab.

 

00000000000000000000000

 

It was hardly a surprise to find Brennan keeping a vigil over a set of bones, but it was slightly unusual to find Hodgins and Cam studying the remains in equal confusion.

“I don’t understand what you expect me to do here,” Cam turned to an unfamiliar looking man who was evidently playing chaperone, and waved a hand towards the bright green bones.  And, okay, _that_ , Booth had to admit, was plain weird.

“You keep the team focused, Doctor Saroyan.”  The voice was deep but gentle, and the stranger’s tone could not have been more polite – a vast difference to the man on the door.  Booth took a moment to survey the competition.  The first thing he noted was that the guard’s impressive physique was apparent even under his smart suit – attire that Booth couldn’t help but think was reminiscent of the Men In Black.  _Who the hell are these guys?_   The second thing Booth noted was that while the man wore black framed glasses, his eyes remained a striking blue and the carefully styled blond hair along with the sharp lines of his body, only made him look like a paragon of American Beefcake.  Albeit, an American Beefcake stuffed into a suit that was at least two sizes too small for him, and was completely uncomfortable in it.  Despite that, there was a kindness in his face that meant Booth couldn’t see him as a threat.

“What can you tell me about the bones?”  Fury inquired, completely ignoring the conversation they’d interrupted.  Cam whirled around, fixing her stare on the commander’s good-eye.

“You mean beside the fact that they appear to be made of a silicone by-product?”  Cam sounded rather annoyed, and Booth wondered whether Fury realized exactly what he was getting himself into tangling with his team.  “What exactly do you expect me to gleam from this?”

“It was impossible for us to provide you with the actual bones,” Temperance paused briefly in her inspection of the not-bones, as though she was going to speak, but quickly resumed her action.  “It’s of the utmost importance that we identify the remains.”  He spoke in an oddly professional manner, and Booth assumed that he altered his tone to suit his audience.  Hodgins fidgeted in an annoyed manner, and it was obviously only a matter of time before he let his frustrations get the better of his self-control.  “We have included this rendering of the skeleton and complete 3d x-rays for more detailed analysis.  In fact, we utilized Miss Montenegro’s designs to…” Fury was cut off by Hodgins at the mention of his wife.

“Which aren’t available to the general public,” he pointed out, somewhat snidely.  For such an intelligent man, Booth couldn’t help but think Hodgins gave too much credence to conspiracy theories.

“With respect, _Doctor_ Hodgins,” Fury emphasized his title, “I work for the federal government and there are no secrets…” Hodgins snorted back a laugh of derision, and Fury partially corrected his statement.  “There are no secrets from us.”  The commander paused for a moment to allow the entomologist to reply, but he wisely declined the offer (Booth assumed he was mulling over the idea that the government had secrets).  “So what can you tell us, Doctor Brennan?”

Bones took a moment to look at Booth to see whether he thought it was prudent to reply.  He nodded in silent approval, so far he had seen no evidence that the mysterious trio intended to do any harm to them, and though he had questioned the existence of SHIELD it was patently clear that all three men were of military order.  Fury had identified himself as the Commander of SHIELD, and from what Booth had seen, he had no reason to distrust the self-identification.  Since there were no guns being forced in his face, and they didn’t appear to be in any immediate danger.  As far as he could see the best thing to do would be to cooperate and get out of the lab as soon as possible.

“Pubic symphysis and wear to the auricular surface of the illum point to male, mid to late twenties.  Approximately 1.9 meters tall.  Muscle attachments suggest an impressive musculature, most likely between two hundred and two hundred and twenty pounds.  No immediate signs of trauma or anything that could lead us to cause of death.”  Brennan reeled off as professionally as always, but Booth knew her well enough to know that her interest had been piqued.

“Cause of death is a zero priority, we only require identification.”  Fury’s reply evidently frustrated Hodgins, but, thankfully, he kept his mouth shut.

“How accurate of a recreation is this?”  She asked after a moment’s consideration.

“Over ninety-nine percent, and you have complete access to the bone scans.  We have nothing to hide, Doctor Brennan.”  Hodgins made a pained noise, but Fury chose to ignore it, as did Bones who was looking at the bones in contemplation.  “Why do you ask?”  His tone suggested that he trusted that her interest was merely scientific (and he was right), and that unlike Hodgins, he need not fear her failure to compliance.  Fury, Booth decided, had a far better understanding of people than most of those in a seat of power, which was oddly refreshing despite the situation.

“The bones have no signs of imperfection, no signs of remodeling, no signs of wear, and no markers of any particular profession more than a few years old, which is a statistical anomaly in a subject of this age.”  Booth had been around long enough to know that when Bones called something a statistical anomaly, it was most likely an understatement.  And, judging by Camille’s expression, he was accurate in his assumption.

“That’s impossible,” Cam muttered, a sentence which seemed to echo Hodgins’ feelings on the matter, it hardly took a doctorate to figure out that this wasn’t their usual case.

“So, you’re saying that the bones are perfect?”  Fury enquired, a slight ghost of a smile flashing briefly across his features, as though they were all missing out on a joke.  The agent, Booth noticed, didn’t seem to find their reactions at all comforting; his gaze remained steadfastly fixed on his shoes – an odd action for such a big man.

“Not perfect, I merely detected an anomaly in the bones.  But I don’t speculate and I don’t believe in absolutes,” Booth and Hodgins shared an amused glance at her attitude.  “Without seeing the actual bones it would be impossible for me to make an accurate assessment.”  She stared him down, undeterred by Fury’s inherent power of intimidation.

“As I’ve said, I’m afraid that won’t be possible,” he replied evenly.

“Even a small sample would enable us to use the mass spectrometer to determine his place of birth and where and when he grew up.  It could be invaluable in determining his identity.”  Booth had to admit that she made a great case to get what she wanted, and Fury obviously thought so too because he allowed himself a brief glance towards his subordinate – which, Booth also noted was slightly strange.

“How big would the sample need to be?”  Fury asked, and Booth knew that Brennan’s which would be granted.

“The size of a bone biopsy would be more than sufficient.  A tooth would do just the same.”  Fury looked at her for a long moment, before shooting another glance at the blond, who nodded solemnly - which, again, was _interesting._

“I’ll see what I can do,” Fury nodded, and the two men took their leave.

 

000000000000000000000

 

Hodgins was tired of the government’s arrogant belief that they could control him just because he worked for the Jeffersonian.  This was not the first time they had been forced to deal with a case against their will, although last time identity had been a zero priority, whereas this time it was seemingly the only priority.  Although, that didn’t make any of the team less interested in the full story.  The curse of a genius was the unending search for answers.

He wasn’t expecting to find anything all that groundbreaking in the samples of water from the ice shelf that had encased the body, but the scrap of blue canvass was more than enough to set the cogs in his mind into motion.  Obviously, the body belonged to someone the government wanted to keep under wraps and the more he stared at the scrap of cloth the more his mind raced.

Frozen in the Artic.  Blue canvass.  A male, six foot two, heavily muscled, in his late twenties.  His synapses were firing on all cylinders.

There was no _way_ that could be him.  And even if it was, why would the government need them to identify the remains, surely the uniform would be identification enough?  Still, it would go a long way to explain the fact that they weren’t allowed access to the original bones.  Secret government experiments were called secret for a reason.

He took a couple of steadying breaths in an attempt to slow is racing heart, before he bolted out of the room and straight for Angela – the _only_ person who was at all likely to believe his latest wild claim.  God, he loved her for that.  There were some advantages to marriage that went past the emotional, and having someone who believed you not matter how insane your assertion was certainly one of them.  He practically ran into her room, and was not at all disappointed to find her working on the facial reconstruction.  Ordinarily, he would have taken a moment to observe how beautiful she was when she was concentrating, but, given the circumstances, he was far too excited to notice.

“Ange… I – I can’t even… I don’t even…” he was painfully aware that he was on the verge of having a seizure, bought on by his own over-excitement.  But that did nothing to temper his feelings.

“I love you too, Sweetheart,” she said, a mocking tone in her voice.

“The remains.  The Artic.  Possibly the biggest cover up in the whole of the US army’s history.”  He waved his arms around as though that might make his ramblings clearer.

“I’m not following,” she said calmly, an affection smile tugging with the edges of her lips.

“I-” she motioned for him to take a breath, and he did so in an attempt to calm himself.  “The Super Soldier Project.”  He finally managed to get his words out in a clear and concise manner.

“Wasn’t that a comic book story?”  She asked, incredulously.

“Well… yes.  But what better way of hiding something that big, than by putting it in plain sight?”  He countered.

“…”  She was too used to his paranoid ramblings to be remotely surprised by his latest claim, and had long since learned that it was better to let him voice his concerns, before she pointed out the obvious flaws in his logic.  Except, this time it sort-of made sense.

“According to various online sources, Captain America’s plane crashed somewhere in the Arctic Circle.  Think about it Ange, the undamaged bones, the height, the weight?  Plus, I found a fragment of blue cloth, it all fits.”  He clapped his hands together; the more he thought about it the more it felt real to him.

“I’m…” Angela started to reply but Hodgins cut her off, before she could deflate him with her logic.

“Just complete the reconstruction and I’ll go talk to Booth.”  He ran off before realizing that he had left his wife somewhat confused, and he rushed back to place a quick kiss on her cheek, before running away to see if he could find anything else which might substantiate his claim.

 

0000000000000000000000000000

 

Unlike Angela, Booth really didn’t have the patience to deal with another one of Hodgins’ paranoid ravings, and he certainly wasn’t in the mood for listening to more wild accusations about imagined government conspiracies.  However, Booth’s lack of enthusiasm had never stopped the entomologist before, and it always pleased Sweets to gain further insights into his colleagues psyche.

“Come on man, it totally fits,” Hodgins pleaded after he had filled them in.

“Well, it might, if Captain America was anything other than a comic book character,” Booth leveled.  Someone had to be the voice of reason, and judging by the look of excitement on the young psychologist’s face, it was not going to be Sweets.

“Well, _apparently,_ so is Iron Man, but the last time I saw Tony Stark, he seemed to be very much alive and kicking.”  Hodgins had the (mis)fortune of running into Stark at a charity fundraiser and while he admired the man’s sense of style, his arrogance was almost suffocating.  However, it only took that brief meeting for Hodgins to determine that Stark was scarily smart – and Hodgins was used to working with a certified genius.  So, he figured that at least some of Stark’s egotism was deserved.

“You honestly think that the government could cover something like that up?”  Booth loved his country, and as a boy he had loved the Captain America comics, but that certainly didn’t mean that he believed Captain America was real.  Hodgins looked at the agent for a long moment, as though steeling himself for a clipped end to the discussion.  When it didn’t come, he began his explanation.

“It’s naïve of us to believe that the government doesn’t keep secrets from us.  You know all too well that the powers-that-be decide _exactly_ what information is made public in ongoing investigations.”  Hodgins smirked, knowing that Booth could not deny just how much information the government kept on a need-to-know basis when _he_ had been in the know too many times to count.

“That’s different, releasing the wrong information could be detrimental to the case.”  Booth argued, almost literally, feeling his temper fray as easily as tissue paper.

“And I’m sure Captain America’s existence would have been a National Security risk.  The government operates on plausible deniability.  The fact that the Super Soldier _couldn’t_ exist probably enabled them to deny all knowledge of countless missions.”  Sweets offered a level response, the child in him unwilling to dismiss Hodgins’ idea as quickly as Booth had.

“So you’re on his side now?”  Booth shot back at the younger man, not at all surprised by his reaction.

“Devil’s advocate,” Sweets shrugged, a slight grin playing on his face, and not for the first time, Booth was struck by just how young he looked.  By the time he was the Psychologist’s age, he had already seen the very worst of humanity, but Sweets had been largely spared a similar torment given his choice of career.

“He doesn’t need any encouragement,” Booth spoke as though Hodgins wasn’t in the room, but that didn’t deter the Doctor.

“Come on Booth… even you have to admit that it’d be pretty cool if the guy really existed…” Hodgins implored him to believe his story, but Booth remained unconvinced.  It wasn’t that he couldn’t appreciate that Captain America’s existence would be awesome, but he firmly believed in separating fact from fiction.

“I don’t think anyone could argue with that.”  Sweets butted in, a somewhat goofy expression on his face.  Seeley merely shot him a contradictory look.  “I would have thought that _you_ especially would have loved the idea of a patriotic Super Soldier since you share similar motivations.”

“Now is not the time to use your shrink mojo,” Booth warned, but knew better than to offer a direct reply.

“It was a friendly observation,” Sweets replied casually, but Hodgins couldn’t suppress a smirk.

“I just don’t buy it,” Booth said.

“Well, if we get a sample of the bone then I’m sure Brennan will be able to prove me right.”  Hodgins walked out of the room before either of the men could make any argument.

“Sometimes I fantasize about how great it would be to have him sent to a military prison,” Booth said, sarcasm dripping into his tone.

“Interesting, is that something you fantasize about often.”  Sweets replied, somewhat tongue-in-cheek.

“Not the time Sweets.”  He shook his head and left the psychologist alone.

 

000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

 

“Your sample,” Fury handed over a small vial containing a tiny sample of bone – freshly harvested by a Doctor with the steadiest hand Fury had ever seen, and facilitated by medical legal lab in the Jeffersonian.  Doctor Brennan looked at him for a long moment, before taking the vial from him.  “What progress has been made?”  He enquired, hoping for more information, although he had already been forewarned that their investigation would be hindered without aforementioned bone sample.

“Angela is running a facial reconstruction, Doctor Hodgins can process a sample through the mass spectrometer and I should be able to use radiocarbon dating to determine a general age of the sample,” she ran off concisely.

“Feel free to help,” Hodgins added in a somewhat sarcastic manner.

“I’m sure you’ll work quite proficiently without my assistance,” Fury replied coldly, and the man who had accompanied him into the room choked back a snort and was rewarded with a reproving look.

“Apparently it’s now a crime to have a sense of humor.” Jack muttered as he left the room, and Barton tried not to smile again, lest Fury do more than give him the evil eye.  Doctor Brennan followed shortly after her colleague without saying anything further.

 

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Angela stared at the computer rendering in shock, she had gone for a coffee, hoping to gain a fresh perspective, following her initial rendering only to come back and find it exactly how she left it.  So, she had checked and treble checked the all of the markers and the facial reconstruction fit almost perfectly.  Obviously, there was some space for interpretation, and since Hodgins had placed the idea in her head she wasn’t entirely sure whether she could trust her initial judgment, but she had been thorough in the reconstruction and to the best of her knowledge the rendering was sound.  She stared at the screen; Brennan had agreed that the markers pointed to an Irish American, which likely meant fair skin and blond hair.  The jaw spoke for itself, and the more she looked at the three dimensional model of the scull, the more ingrained her reconstruction became.  She had reached the point where she could not see anything other than the face she had reconstructed.

And she had to admit that the guy was sort-of beautiful.

Which was totally inappropriate considering he was old enough to be her grandfather, but since when had she ever believed in adhering to what was socially acceptable?  She was jolted from her reverie as Jack practically exploded into the room, and shattered the silence.

“Wow… that’s wow… that totally proves it,” he looked positively gleeful, and seemed a little lost for words, which was pretty unusual for Hodgins.

“Use your words, honey.”  She said serenely, having anticipated his reaction.  In fact, that was one of the reasons she had spent so long confirming her drawings, before she had called him in to share the results.

“Brennan just dated the bone sample - it’s from a man, in his twenties, who lived 50-100 years ago and, get this; the Bone marrow is still viable.”  He tapped a few things into the Angelatron and pulled up one of the propaganda posters of Captain America from back in the war.  “Cam’s running some more tests… but come on Ange…” he gestured to the display which depicted the two pictures next to each other, and clapped his hands together when words failed him.  “This is massive,” he added, grinning manically.  “This is…”

 “Some sort of a bad joke.”  Booth interjected, staring at the screen in disbelief.   “You have got to be kidding me.”

“The facial markers match,” Angela replied, unsure of what else she could say.

“They can’t have found Captain America.”  Booth shook his head, but continued to look at the screen in disbelief.  He was starting to worry that the whole thing was a hallucination bought on by complications due to his previous brain surgery.

“They found Captain America?”  Sweets appeared from nowhere.  And Booth distractedly wondered, whether Sweets’ psychological mojo enabled him read just how much he secretly wanted that to be the case.  As much as Booth believed in what the government told him, he had been raised by his Pop and _he_ had been raised on the Captain America comics.  So his love of them had been instilled from a very young age, and it was hard to ignore the warm memories which Captain America evoked.

“If Brennan had suggested this, no one would be arguing,” Hodgins replied incredulously, crossing his arms over his chest.

“That’s because Bones isn’t prone to paranoid ravings.”  Booth countered, keeping a rational head on him, despite the image before him.  There was no point getting excited until he had all of the facts – and had been convinced _he_ wasn’t losing his mind.

“Well I’m afraid this time it might not be a paranoia talking.”  Cam and Brennan joined them in Angela’s office, and Hodgins fidgeted slightly at the affirmation.

“Cam was able to draw DNA out of the marrow and it’s like nothing we’ve ever seen before,” Brennan explained.  Cam, for her part, looked slightly shell shocked by the whole experience, which was enough to convince Booth that Hodgins’ theory should not have been so easily dismissed.

“I hate to be the one to admit this, but I think we probably just identified a comic book character,” Cam said after a long moment.  The group exchanged silent looks.

“Would you be willing to go on record with that?”  Fury interrupted, and Booth wondered exactly how many bugs he’d set up across the lab to be able to join them right at that particular instant.  If he had to guess, he’d say the Commander had been keeping tabs on the lab for a while.

“I’m not sure I understand.” Sweets shook his head, and Booth was glad that he wasn’t the only one who had no clue what was going on. 

“I’m right, aren’t I?  Captain America was a real person – identity classified, of course – and you just found his remains,” Hodgins clapped his hands together.  “I love my job.”  He laughed, kissing Angela on the cheek and then grinning.

Fury was joined by his two flanking agents, the taller of which shut the door, carefully, behind him.

“What I am about to tell you is classified, and is not to leave this room until SHIELD dictates it is the right time,” Fury explained.

“Shield?” Angela asked and received a stony look from her husband for the trouble.  Times like these were the only, fleeting moments, he ever wondered why he loved her so much.  “Sorry, I just feel like I’ve missed a page here,” she said calmly but the unimpressed look she shot Hodgins wasn’t missed by anyone.  Yeah, he was going to regret that later.

“The Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division are a branch of the government dedicated to the defense of sovereign soil.”  The smaller of the two guards – Barton, Fury had called him – supplied helpfully.

“What does this have to do with The Jeffersonian?”  Booth asked, trying to fit the pieces of the puzzle together, and figure out exactly why SHIELD required their help.

“You have been identified as the best forensics team in the country.  You have helped to solve over a hundred murders by analyzing what little evidence was available, when no one else could.  Put simply, you are the only ones we could rely upon to reach the necessary conclusion.”  Fury’s flattery failed to impress any of them but it was Camille who spoke first.

“The government must have hundreds of teams of scientists who could assist you?” she said, echoing all of their thoughts.  The question was implied by the clinical tone in her voice.

“They already have.  He has been put through a battery of tests and all of the parties concerned have been satisfied enough to identify him as Steven G. Rogers, code named – Captain America.  The first and only successful recipient of the Super Soldier Serum,” Fury replied, coolly.

“So why did you need us?”  Booth asked, since judging by the respective looks on everyone’s faces, no one was any wiser than he was.

“The department is preparing to go public with the discovery, and since we live in a country in which people don’t vote, and are far more jaded than they were in the forties, we felt it was important to allow an independent department to validate our findings.”  Fury explained.  He would have made a great politician, since he didn’t seem to understand the concept of giving a straight answer, Hodgins mused.

“I can’t see why anyone would be all that interested in a seventy year old corpse,” Sweets said after a moment, looking as confused as the rest of them still felt.

“We didn’t find his corpse.”  The commander said flatly, and the larger guard shifted slightly.

“But you just…” Hodgins tried to cut in, but was silenced by a dismissive wave from Fury.

“We found his body in the ice… his living body.”  Sweets made a high pitched noise of excitement, and Hodgins threw him a look that practically screamed ‘ _I know, right?_ ’  Booth openly stared at Fury as though he’d grown a second head.

“Now, I know I’m dreaming.”  Cam muttered leaning against the table in surprise, while Hodgins continued to gawp at Fury like he was dressed in a big red suit, had a fluffy white beard and had just bought all his Christmas’s at once.

“That’s impossible the freezing process wouldn’t prevent the cellular deterioration…”  Brennan seemed to be the only one among them who had maintained her sensibilities.

“We believe his enhanced regeneration capabilities kept him alive.”  Fury stated, apparently he had been prepared for their questions.

“So, just to make sure I’m following this, you’ve got Captain America stashed away in VA hospital somewhere,” Booth broke his silence, annoyed at the idea that his childhood hero  was being left to rot in a hospital.  There was something unpatriotic about the image of Captain America stagnating in a sterile room.

“Not exactly,” Fury said, a slight smirk pulling against his lips.  And they were _definitely_ all missing something.

“What do you mean, not exactly?  Would it kill you to give us a straight answer?”  Booth snapped in frustration and Fury took a look at his two men, and took a moment to consider before he replied.

“In that case, Agent Booth, I’d like you to meet Captain Steven Rogers.”  The big blond stepped forward from the doorway, shuffled from one foot to another and offered them all an awkward smile. 

“Oh,” he murmured, glancing at the pictures on the screen and pulling off his glasses – as though they did anything to alter his appearance. 

“Good likeness, Ange.”  Brennan grinned as she looked from the screen to the man before her, and was the only one who seemed to be able to move their mouth – apart from Hodgins whose jaw literally dropped open.  And really, no one, certainly not Booth, could blame him for being so in awe.

“It’s, uh, good to meet you.”  Steve said after a moment, and Sweets grinned like a school boy on the last day of term, while Hodgins blinked furiously as though the blond might disappear before his very eyes.  In fact, if Booth was not mistaken, there were tears in the entomologist’s eyes.

The room was silent for a long moment.  Booth continued to drink in everything about the, newly revealed, Super Soldier before him.  They were about the same height, although the Captain was broader across the shoulder, which wasn’t really a surprise considering who he was.  It was a surprise, however, to find that Captain America – _Captain America –_ was probably only a little older than Sweets, and looked even more awkward under their scrutiny.

“Seeley Booth,” breaking the stunned silence, he took a step forward and held out a hand.  The Captain shook as per the convention, before closing his other hand around their joined hands.  Booth assumed as an indication of sincerity.

“It’s really nice to meet you…” he smiled at Booth, “all of you,” he glanced past Booth towards the others.  Sweets made a noise which was so high pitched that only dogs understood, and was probably a sign that he’d spent a little too much time with Daisy.  “I’m sorry to have put you all to so much trouble.”  He laughed uncomfortably.  “I appreciate you giving up your weekend,” he smiled again, his time directing his attentions towards the women in the room.

Angela laughed nervously, and tucked her hair behind her ear in a flirtatious manner, and Hodgins definitely looked as though he were about to cry with joy.  Cam looked from the Fury to the Captain, blinking rapidly in disbelief.  In fact, only Brennan was looking at the poor guy with anything other shock.

“The biopsy must have hurt,” she said somewhat tangentially and Booth looked at her like she had finally lost the plot.  “Unless, of course, they had some high strength tranquilizers to hand.”  Steve shook his head, and Booth felt like he’d missed out on something important

“No, ma’am.  We had something, but uh, it doesn’t really work like it should on….” The Captain waved a hand up his body.  “It wasn’t too bad though,” he smiled easily.  She nodded in understanding, and Steve shucked off his jacket and rolled up the sleeve on his left arm to reveal a bandage.  “But I appreciate your need to confirm your findings,” he added solemnly and proffered his already largely healed arm as evidence that the biopsy came from him.

“There’s no need for that, Steve.”  Brennan said after a moment, and alleviated everyone’s suspicions, even if Angela and Booth had yet to see the relevance.

“Oh God,” Cam said after a moment, “of course, a traditional anesthetic wouldn’t have worked…” she rubbed her arm subconsciously, “it must have been like torture.”  She shot Fury a penetrating look.  “You should never have allowed it.”

“Captain Rogers was more than willing to comply with the request.”  Fury replied, completely unfazed by Cam’s annoyance.  “He understood how important it was for you to assess his genetic make-up.  Although, I would take this moment to reiterate that the findings are top secret and must be turned over to SHIELD.”  The Doctor continued to eye up Fury – she was, Seeley noticed, wearing her most intimidating face –but he didn’t seem at all troubled.

“Thank you for your concern, Doctor Saroyan,” Steve moved towards Cam and touched her shoulder reassuringly, “but I was more than aware of what I was agreeing to.”  He smiled, and it was the kind of blinding smile they all recognized from the cartoon drawings of Captain America used as propaganda posters during the War.  The posters they had all been forced to study at some point in their academic career.  If Seeley remembered correction, it was something about the importance of the media in influencing public opinion.

“I just – I can’t… please tell me I’m not dreaming.”  Hodgins finally broke his silence, and added after a beat.  “Seriously… I can’t be the only one thinking that,” he added when Angela elbowed him hard enough to leave him rubbing his arm.

“You’re not,” Sweets replied succinctly.  “But I have a couple of questions…”  Steve nodded in understanding.  The Super Soldier had obviously been provided a file on each of them to prepare him for the exercise because he seemed to understand exactly what their reactions would be.  Booth couldn’t help but think that was pretty amazing considering he’d just woken up in a different century.

“I’m not going to lie; it’s not been an easy transition.”  Captain Rogers replied calmly, shooting a glance towards Fury before returning his hypnotically blue gaze back onto the psychiatrist.

“I’m sure you’ve undergone extensive psychological evaluations,” Lance looked at him through squinted eyes as though it would somehow enable him to see the truth.

“Yes sir,” he nodded, and the Doctor lit up like a three year old on his birthday.

“Captain America called me sir,” Sweets said to no one in particular, before clearing his throat, “which is totally not relevant.”  He coughed again.  “You seem to be coping, which is, uh, I gotta tell you, a bit of a surprise given the extreme changes which must have occurred in the time you were frozen.”

“I think all of the men who came back from the war would have been drastically affected by what they had seen,” he said carefully.  “You’d have to be pretty hard-hearted not to be.”  Sweets grinned again, apparently that was the only thing people were capable of doing after they’d just met Captain America, and glanced at Booth.

“That’s a pretty modern viewpoint,” Sweets allowed.

“It’s a realistic viewpoint,” Captain Rogers nodded, matter-of-factly and Lance smiled.  “But if you love your family and friends enough – if you love your country enough – then it’s a worthwhile sacrifice.”  And if anyone noticed the slight mist in his eyes then they didn’t point it out.

“He’s so patriotic he makes you look like...” Hodgins mutter to Booth tailed off as he received a stern look from both his wife and Doctor Sweets.

“So you’re really Captain America?”  Angela asked, looking at him keenly, and trying to relieve the sudden tension in the room.

“I guess,” the blond shrugged.  “But I’m definitely Steve Rogers,” he smiled humbly.  Angela looked at him like she wanted to take him home and mother him – although that was a facial expression she’d been utilizing at a much higher frequency since Michael Vincent was born.

“This is, without a doubt, the best day of my life-” Angela once again cut her husband off with a glare, “-I mean aside from the day we got married, and the day you told me you were pregnant… this really isn’t the best day of my life but, ah, it’s the best day of my working life?”  He shot her a half-pleading, half-hopeful look.

“Better sweetie.”  She confirmed, and Steve issued them both with a gentle smile.  And Angela could see the sadness as plain as day in his eyes; she gave him a warm smile and placed a comforting hand on his forearm.

“You’re a national icon,” Booth said, finally getting his chance to speak.  He laughed, more to himself than anymore else, and Temperance looked between Angela and her partner to see what the correct course of action should be.

“I only did what I thought was right.  It’s no more than you would do.”  Steve explained.

“Does,” Brennan corrected.

“I’m sorry,” Steve nodded, understand her meaning.  “I’ve never been good at expressing myself.”  He shrugged, and Booth imagined the cogs ticking over in Sweets’ head at that snippet of information.  “I just mean that what I did wasn’t special.”

“Sure, every other soldier marched into a hydra base and rescued 300 soldiers – I assume that was you,” Hodgins remembered the story of how one soldier had stormed into a Nazi base and saved hundreds of men.  If that was true – and it appeared in countless history books – then the one man could be none other than Captain America.

 “I, uh,” Fury nodded to his silent question, pondering whether he could disclose the truth.  Fury answered with a brief quirk of his head.  “Yes that was me, but it was more complicated than was made out…”

“So you didn’t single-handedly save a squadron of men?”  Hodgins said.

“Ah… they mainly saved themselves.”  Steve explained a blush creeping down his neck, and then pulled a face.  “They’d captured my best friend… it, uh, seemed like a good idea at the time.”  He shrugged; Booth eyed him for a moment.  “I don’t know what I was thinking,” he laughed awkwardly.  “I was mainly just lucky.”

“And the three other Nazi bases that were decimated… I suppose you had nothing to do with that?” Hodgins almost accused and Cam and Angela shared a look with a silent question enquiring when he became a historical expert.  The Captain smiled slyly.

“I had a lot of help.”

“Captain Rogers is being modest; he was at the forefront of the war effort.”  Fury pedaled the company line.

Steve briefly made eye contact with Booth and sent his eyes skyward.  The Super Soldier had never appreciated the propaganda machine, and he certainly never appreciated being a dancing monkey.  Booth shot him a small smile in response, understanding what it was like to be marked as nothing but a hero.  Being a hero wasn’t nearly as glorious as the government liked to make out, in order to become one you usually had to give up part of your soul.  Killing another human wasn’t a glorious pursuit it was a destructive force.

An awkward silence fell over the room.

“Well, they certainly knew how to make em in the forties…” Angela received barbed looks from her colleagues.  “Oh come on, like I was the only one thinking it.”

“Every single time.”  Barton muttered to himself and the blond clapped him on the shoulder with a quick smile.  Booth remembered what it was like to have that kind of friendship; sometimes he missed those days.  Somewhat tragically, the closest thing he currently he had to a ‘bro’ was Sweets, (and the fact that he knew the term ‘bro’ was probably a testament to that fact), and he was more like his kid brother… or potentially even his son.  He shuddered involuntarily at the thought.  When the hell had he gotten so old?

“His face is pleasingly symmetrical, and his, uh, musculature is certainly _very_ impressive.”  Brennan smiled slightly, and Sweets looked like he was positively _itching_ to talk about that with his two subjects and Booth was _REALLY_ dreading that particular conversation.

“Uh, thanks,” Captain America shrugged, a blush coloring his cheekbones.  “I think,” Sweets snorted and then had the decency to look ashamed, when Camille shot him a withering look.

“Sorry,” he added, completed abashed.  Hodgins however, didn’t seem to have the same problem.

 “Would it be awkward if I agreed?”  He asked with a grin, snaking an arm over his wife’s shoulders.

“Yes, Sweetie.”  Angela replied both instantly and long-sufferingly.  Barton smirked as she rolled her eyes, almost embarrassed for her husband.

“I’m sorry… much as I’m _loving_ this conversation… I still fail to see why we’re all here.”  Good old Cam, Booth thought, straight and to the point, and apparently saving them all from any more inane small talk.

“Because Captain America…” Hodgins said, at the same time as Brennan replied.

“I agree, this hardly seems a pertinent use of our time.”

“Sorry, ma’am,” Steve replied, looking abashed.  “I had no intention of ruining your weekend, Doctor Brennan.”

“I’m sure it was their _honor_ to help,” sarcasm practically dripped from Barton’s voice.  Steve shot him an amused grin, despite the obvious dig at him.  An action which spread easy smiles across the group, especially when Fury shot his subordinate a look that they all knew meant Barton would be relegated to grunt work… indefinitely.

“I know you like to think you’re funny, Barton, but please reframe from disrespecting the chain of command in front of civilians.”  Fury replied through clenched teeth, which only caused a surge of barely suppressed silent laughter to spread through the group.

“Sir,” he nodded his understanding and Fury addressed the Jeffersonian team.

“I’ll require written reports from each of you detailing your findings, and my legal department has drawn up documents preventing the disclosure of your research until SHIELD deems it necessary.”  Despite several confused faces around the room, all but one of the doctors nodded.

“And once again the government covers up the real story.”   Hodgins huffed, indignantly.

“ _Doctor_ Hodgins, if SHIELD wanted Captain Rogers’ existence to be kept a secret we would never have defrosted him.”  Steve couldn’t help but feel that was fairly insensitive considering he was in the room, and was glad to find that he was not the only one.  Barton offered him a consolatory tap on the back, while Angela and Hodgins eyed Fury with matching cold stares.

“You make him sound like a steak,” Booth offered, annoyance palpable in his tone.

“More like a carton of Ben and Jerrys…” Cam corrected, her eyes widening as her brain caught up with her mouth.  “I’m so sorry…” shot Steve a mortified look and felt her face heating up.

“Don’t worry ma’am, I have no idea what you just compared me to,” Steve shrugged.  But Barton took a step forward and mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like ‘explain later’.

“Do we have an agreement?”  Fury cut off their irrelevant discussion, in an attempt to keep things predictable.

“Your terms seem satisfactory.”  Brennan answered for all of them.

“Then I believe that we’re done here.”  And with that he turned on his heel and exited the room, stopping only to call, “Agent Barton.”  The shorter agent shot Steve an annoyed look, but followed his commander without argument.

“I- uh,” Rogers faltered, unsure what to say.  “Thank you for assisting us.  And I’m really sorry you had to give up your weekend.”  He made an aborted hand movement as a goodbye gesture, and was reminded, not for the first time, just how awkward he could be around strangers.  “I guess I should go.”

Hodgins opened his mouth to speak, but Booth cut him off. 

“It was an honor, Sir.”  He nodded, as he drew his hand up to salute his boyhood hero. Steve returned the salute with the proper deference, before the interaction was interrupted by Brennan.

“Hypothetically, I could have utilized my significant skill and intellect in a more productive manner… but I find that I don’t mind the outcome of the research.”  Bones smiled in her amused manner, drawing the Captain’s attentions towards her, which she saw as an invitation to tell him exactly how her energy could have been more productively spent.  “A dig in Schöningen recently uncovered what they believe to be the fossilized Mandibles, Postcranial and Vertebraw of Homo Heidelbergensis and they’ve requested my input on their research publication.”  She explained.  Steve, for his part, looked at her for a long moment before sighing and dragging one large hand over his face.

“I’m starting to think no one speaks English these days.”  He said to no one in particular, causing Booth to laugh out loud, glad that he wasn’t the only one who was often confused by the scientific language that was bounced around so casually in his presence.  “I’m sorry, that was impolite.”  Steve recovered, with a shake of his head.

“No, don’t apologize, it will only encourage them.  It’s nice to have someone around who isn’t a certified genius.”  Angela coughed loudly, hinting that she was no squint and Booth merely nodded to the scarily accurate rendering of Steve on the holographic display.

“Tell me about it.”  Steve smiled.  “It was really good to meet you Agent Booth.”  He shook the older… younger – damn, that was never going to get any easier – man’s hand, before turning his attention to the group of scientists.  “Once again, thank you so much for all your help.  I really am sorry to have put you to so much trouble.  I, uh, guess I’ll see you around.”  He bowed slightly before he took his leave of the room.

The team looked at each other in complete silence for several long moments.

“… Okay… if no one else is going to say it…” Hodgins paused for dramatic effect.  “We just met Captain America!” He bounced suddenly, unable to contain his excitement any longer.  “I love my job!”  He practically vibrated.  Booth allowed himself to grin and clapped Sweets on the back, as the younger man started laughing.  Which left the girls to look at each other.

“I’ve got to admit it was pretty cool.”  Angela conceded, and Brennan merely smiled.

“One of the many reasons I love you, babe.”  Hodgins replied, placing a gentle kiss against her temple.  “I can’t _wait_ to tell Michael Vincent.”  He almost laughed.

“You do realize he’s a baby right?”  She queried, sometimes, for all his intellect, Jack had a habit of being oddly dense about these things.

“Oh, I’m still going to be telling this story when he’s in college.”  Angela shot the rest of them a concerned look, which only elicited more smiles.

 

 

 

 


End file.
